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I enjoy Thanksgiving. While most of my friends treat this festive day like the Opening Ceremony for Foodie Olympics. Making fancy dishes, cooking for three days, caramelizing onions and whatnot. I have to say, my most favorite part of the holiday is the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Why- because I really LOVE Christmas and at the end of the parade the Man in Red appears- squeal! Yes, I realize I may have watched Miracle on 34nd Street a few times too many.

I could wax philosophically about being thankful every day and not just one day out of the year, or go on some plight of the turkey rant (trivia: I was a vegetarian for 10+ years) but really I think my reason has more to do with most of our family gatherings resembling SNL skits- like this one! Okay maybe it wasn’t really that bad but we had some doozies.

When the Hubs and I bought our first house we decided to use the extended weekend to tackle one of the big home improvement projects we had on our list-baseboards. Since that year, home improvement projects have become part of our Thanksgiving ritual. Baseboards, fireplace mantle, stair railings, and so on were happily improved upon during our break. A few years back we moved into a house that wasn’t in as much need of improvement. We didn’t know what to do. Since then we have hosted people at our house, gone on vacation, even gone to our relatives house for turkey and pie. It just didn’t feel right. There was no paint, no liquid nails, no last minute trips to Home Depot on Wednesday night.

This year we are returning to our roots. We are painting our master bedroom. As of the night before T-day we have cleaned out the room, taped off the edges, and have one coat on the ceiling. Woohoo! We are on schedule! It feels good to be spending the weekend in grubbies with a paint brush versus Sunday best and a fork.

Now don’t fret. We will still have a traditional meal. Well, a traditional meal- Home Ec Reject style. We have the agenda set and know what time to put the turkey in the oven. This is what is on the menu at the Reject establishment: turkey, Stove Top Stuffing, homemade mashed potatoes and gravy (because I didn’t get to Trader Joe’s to pick up the frozen mashed potatoes), broccoli hidden under a cheese sauce, and a Jell-O pumpkin pudding pie and popcorn- because we seem to be having popcorn with every meal as it is the Ninja’s new favorite thing. It is a nice mix of homemade and not-so home made but it works for us.

So to wrap up: I am thankful for a family that has a great sense of humor and and loves me and my need to do things a bit differently, a home, a husband who is okay with having a purple bedroom, and my two hooligans- one who insists on having pumpkin pie (a testament to how much I love her because I hate pumpkin pie) and the other one that loves popcorn!

A quick online search brings up the definition of a pirate as some who attacks and robs ships at sea, robs and plunders and many colorful synonyms. After an exhausting week and coming home to a house that looked like it had been looted, I come to the conclusion… my kids are pirates.

They ransacked my closet to find the “right” shoes for a game of dress up.

They pillaged my bathroom drawer to use my good perfume like air freshener- yep, can you say $75 Lysol!

They hide their secret treasures- half eaten lollipops, underpants, Happy Meal toys- in the cushions of the couch.

The robbed me of my extra hour of sleep this morning by getting up 30 minutes before they would have typically gotten up.

They plundered my purse for my personal items and then hid them in their toy kitchen, then walk around the house gloating and saying things like “Can’t find your keys, can you?” or “Mommy lost her sunglasses AGAIN!” followed by an evil laugh.

Watch out because the little guy has started flicking booger bombs (according to him this is a better choice than eating them- I reminded him that tissues are the best choice).

They prefer to eat food that has been impaled on a stick of some kind- tooth pick, chopstick, Popsicle stick, etc.

You can’t understand half the things the little one says.

They stink.

Well, that’s it. Time to try and dig the rest of the treasures out of the couch and find a new hiding spot for my perfume. What thinks have your loved one’s done lately that make you question your sanity?